


Winter Is Past

by nbarker1990



Category: The Voice (US) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 15:36:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8451961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nbarker1990/pseuds/nbarker1990
Summary: "For lo, the winter is past / The rain is over and goneThe flowers appear on the earth / The time of singing has come..."





	

“Better than last month,” she admitted, her voice sounding scratchy and raw even to her own ears. “I mean, anything would be better than last month, but…”

His arms banded around her, keeping her close to his broad chest, so close she could almost hear his heart beating. She’d always been physically affectionate but never quite this much, this soon. Blake had mentioned only last night in a string of frustrated expletive-laden emails that it had sometimes frustrated him, having his own efforts rebuffed over and over again, and that next time (and yeah, there’d been that strange twinge when she’d thought about that) he wanted someone who didn’t find his desire and need for hugs something to be ‘put up’ with.

“You don’t have to be here, y’know,” she said, words muffled by his plaid shirt. “S’okay.”

“I want to.” He lowered his head to her shoulder, burrowed into her neck like he was looking for the comfort she was seeking from him. “It’s selfish of me, but I want to.”

“I couldn’t imagine anything _less_ selfish. You literally ended every day on set when we were filming having to put up with me getting snot and tears and make-up all over you. And now a vague, pathetic ‘I missed you’ has you running over here.”

His laugh was low, warm, a sound she vaguely remembered hearing for the first time and immediately wanting more of in her life. It wasn’t a particularly objectively attractive laugh, but it was an enticing one all the same.

“I mean, I basically demanded you come over to my house.”

“Shameless,” he teased, and she could feel his breath against her skin. “Maybe I just came because I wanted the chance to find out all your deep, dark secrets.”

“Not gonna find many of those by standing in my kitchen hugging me.”

“Maybe just one or two. Not dark, though.”

Curiosity piqued, Gwen lifted her head, locking eyes with Blake in a way that had been happening more and more lately. Maybe it was just because they were going through similar shitty situations, she wasn’t sure, but it was a relief (maybe even a pleasure) finally having someone to talk to who didn’t just give her nice platitudes about how she had made the right decision and everything would be okay. Blake gave her unvarnished honesty even when it kind of hurt. And then he helped soothe that hurt. Every time.

“For instance,” he continued, his grip on her tank top loosening and his fingers stretching so they spanned her lower back. “For instance, every time I touch you here, you tense up a little. I can stop if you want.”

“Not a bad tensing up,” Gwen admitted, shifting so she was standing between his legs, her toes almost level with the counter “Just…”

“If I make you nervous, I can – “

“Not nervous either, really.” Sighing, she let her head fall to his chest again, letting herself consider how he’d react if she finally did what she wanted.

“Do it,” he said, and had she actually spoken that out loud, and if so, could a hole open up in the floor and just swallow her up? Laughing softly, his hands moved up and down, calming motions she recognized all too well from trying to get her boys through the past few months. “Just do it.” And this time it sounded like a dare.

Her hands felt shaky as she reached for a button on his shirt. Two were already undone, but the third and fourth, those ones were tempting her, had tempted her in her dreams all last week in Montana, too. Her fingers had never felt less nimble but finally the shirt fell open more, exposing graying chest hair and, as her eyes dropped lower, a glimpse of his nipples. Christ.

His laugh sounded choked, strangled even, and his hands stilled on her. “Bold.”

“Scared,” she corrected. “Terrified.”

“Gwen…”

Swallowing down the words she was pretty sure would permanently scare him off, she continued working her way down his buttons, smiling to herself when he literally sucked in as she reached his stomach. “I just, I need to know.”

“Know what?” he asked urgently, his hands finally moving again, one caressing her hip in a way that had her wanting to press up against him even closer.

And that was a good question, because actually, she already knew. This was just unnecessary confirmation. She _wanted_ him. She wanted _him_. Her breath felt stuck in her throat, and she stopped, tried to take a step back.

“Gwen. Sweetheart.”

Disappointment flashed quickly in his eyes and she probably wouldn’t have even noticed it if she hadn’t been watching him for every tiny change in expression. But it was there, mirroring her own. Because hell, she really did want to move on, to do something about this attraction that had flared up. But…

“Hey, it’s alright,” he said, one hand resting on her forearm, a grounding touch. Taking a deep breath, she moved back into his reach, hooking a leg around one of his as if it could stop the fears in her mind taking over again. “It’s alright. I didn’t come here for, y’know…” He waved his arms around, trying to convey what she was pretty sure they were both thinking about. “That.”

She ducked her head, felt relief fill her when he didn’t take that as a definitive answer but instead tilted her face back up to his. Neither Tony nor Gavin had been short exactly, but standing barefoot in front of Blake was just a reminder of how much bigger he was. She didn’t mind admitting – at least to herself – that that thought – and honestly, just the idea of actually exploring, seeing, experiencing another man’s body - had been giving her restless nights lately. It was almost like the inevitability of what was going to happen was becoming more overwhelming than anything else, and yet she couldn’t stay away. Last Thursday, she’d forced herself not to send him a single text message.

She’d allowed herself three separate Facetime calls the next day to make up for it.

“Blake,” she said haltingly, placing a hand just above his belt buckle (his stomach was  _much_ flatter than he’d have had her believe, actually). “Are we making a bad decision?”

“Dunno. But I think it’s the only decision I can make, y’know.”

“I don’t want to have regrets.”

“I won’t regret you.” His fingers crept up under her shirt, his calloused tips gentle on her belly. “Won’t regret this. We can stop, though. Anytime.”

“What if I don’t want to stop?”

His first kiss was hesitant, a brief brush of the lips that had her stomach flipping and her heart beating way too fast. Forehead to forehead, they stood backed up against the countertop, her up on her toes and his back bowed. Moments went by, the only noise permeating her senses his murmured endearments, his disbelieving little exhalations of joy.

“Don’t stop, Blake. Please.”

His second kiss was a solemn vow.


End file.
